


A Lifetime of Solitude

by littlewonder



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Alien Sex, Begging, Bets & Wagers, Cloacal Sex, Denial, Distrust, Dominance, Double Penetration, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fingerfucking, Fingering, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Isolation, Jealousy, Literature, Love Bites, Love Confessions, M/M, Mind Games, Mutual Pining, Neck Kissing, Oral Sex, Rumors, Semi-Public Sex, Table Sex, Teasing, Uniform Kink, wall kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 12:09:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17467283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlewonder/pseuds/littlewonder
Summary: Garak and Dukat have both been abandoned by Cardassia, but aboard DS9 they both have someone they care for, who they want to be with.One day, Dukat proposes a scheme to get them: a fake relationship with each other.But Garak and Dukat have a long and complicated relationship. Will this scheme win their people aboard the station, or will they merely fall for each other?





	A Lifetime of Solitude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CastellanGarak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastellanGarak/gifts).



> Written for CastellanGarak for a fic exchange. The request was Garak/Dukat, fake relationship, lots of smut, happy ending. I did add my own personal spin to it, but I hope this fic lives up to her expectations.
> 
> Also, for the sex scenes, I did use a few references: 
> 
> [ Speculative Cardassian Reproductive Xenobiology](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719479) by tinsnip
> 
> and, [this visual guide](http://agatharights.tumblr.com/post/87477160385/i-drew-a-bunch-of-my-headcanons-for-star-trek) to Cardassian males' privates

Elim Garak had lived a life full of disappointments, betrayal, and heartbreaks. He walked through the world apart from it, an outsider; he had become used to a lifetime of solitude. It wasn’t that he was devoid of passion; quite the opposite, in fact. He just seemed to be something loathsome to all the world.

With no one was this more true with than Skrain Dukat. Since before they ever met, Dukat had hated Garak, and not for anything Garak was but for what he had done. He hated Garak for something he had control over. And the more Dukat hated him, the more Garak had grown to hate him in return.

Yet as much as he hated Dukat now, no matter what violent fantasies or snarky remarks came to his mind whenever Dukat was around, within the last few years something else had emerged. Something Garak hated himself for.

Skrain Dukat was a rather attractive man. Garak had only recently been made aware of this, when he had heard the man brag. What had started as loathing at the thought of finding him attractive had transformed into recognition of just how attractive Dukat really was. And when Dukat looked back at him, Garak had made another discovery: Dukat didn’t purely hate him, either.

Over the last few years, they had settled into a routine: rather than acknowledge the true nature of their connection, they had settled for making each other jealous instead.

Garak had well grown used to the idea of his own isolation. His only comfort in this was literature, especially literature like _The Never-Ending Sacrifice_.  
But he had to admit, the last place he ever expected to find such literature was a place like Earth.

“It seems you have been holding out on me,” Garak told Bashir, as they sat at a table on the second level of Quark’s Bar. “Your recommendations for Earth literature have been too soft. And yet, I have recently discovered a novel called _100 Years of Solitude_ which I have found quite fascinating..."

"Garak," said Bashir with an exasperated sigh. “Who told you about that novel?"

“You are not my only source for literature, you know."

For years, Garak had been sitting down with Bashir discussing literature from each of their cultures, and so often he had been disappointed by the recommendations Bashir had offered him. He had come to think of Earth literature as inherently soft, until he had begun asking around for recommendations.

His hope had not only been to acquire some new entertainment, but to also tempt Bashir back into his sphere of influence: lately, he’d felt him slipping away, and Garak was so lonely and felt he had little recourse but to hunt for opportunity with Bashir.

He normally hated sitting in Quark’s Bar. But he’d do what he had to.

Bashir looked sceptically back at Garak. “It was Odo, wasn’t it?"

Perhaps he should have expected such accusations from Bashir; he suspected that over the years, Bashir had only grown to distrust him more. There was hope for him yet; and yet, for their friendship, hope was growing thin.

It was probably for the best; he’d only destroy him in the end.

As for the accusation itself, Bashir knew well Odo was the only other one on the station he truly counted as a friend. It was entirely possible he saw Garak as incapable of acquiring anything as simple as a literature recommendation from anyone else but a friend like him or Odo. How he underestimated his capacity to charm.

“Now, how ever would Odo have even discovered this novel? He barely reads anything that isn’t a security report."

“Well, he probably had it recommended to him."

“Yes, but by who?"

Bashir pointed out a figure downstairs by the bar. Her nose ridges stood out in shadow and her Bajoran earring glinted in the low light. It was Kira Nerys.

Garak was disappointed. He had expected to drag out the mystery at least a little bit, to argue over possibilities, but it seemed Odo was too simple a man to figure out. Of course Kira would recommend Odo books. 

Yet, why she might have recommended a book like _100 Years of Solitude_ he didn’t know; it hardly seemed like her style. He wondered if it was even Odo’s style, but if it was, then no doubt the reason would lie in the fact that, like Garak, he was an outcast. However, it was far more Garak’s style than Odo’s, and that probably was in large part due to its similarities with _The Never-Ending Sacrifice_.

Before Garak could say any of this, however, Kira was disturbed from her lounging at the bar when Gul Dukat strode purposefully towards her. She stood to face him.

Garak and Bashir both watched as Dukat attempted to smooth-talk her, and she hit him when he got too close.  
Soon, she stormed off, and he stared after her.

“Can you believe that?” said Bashir. “How many times has she turned him down now? Dukat really can’t take a hint, can he?”

Although he understood how Bashir viewed Dukat and Kira’s relationship, he knew that Dukat’s view on it was vastly different. Even watching his face as Kira stormed away, he saw a great deal of satisfaction.

But Major Kira was no easy victim for Dukat to sway; she was no Bajoran slave. Garak knew that Dukat viewed her as a true adversary, worthy of his attention. But he also had an enormous need to control, to dominate, that Garak believed he was still trying to assert over Bajoran women like her.

Dukat’s eyes flashed up to meet Garak’s, as though sensing him watching him. It felt like he was burning into his soul.

Purposefully, Dukat stormed upstairs towards him.  
“Oh, damn,” swore Bashir, “he’s coming up here..."

Bashir stiffened at his approach, but at the look in Garak’s face, he forced himself to drop his shoulders and breathe. Garak turned with a calm façade as Dukat approached the table.

“Dukat,” he said, “to what do we owe the displeasure?"

Dukat briefly glared at Bashir before turning his gaze to Garak. His eyes blazed at him in a silent accusation, but his hands remained by his sides, rather than around Garak’s neck.

“Does this amuse you, Garak?” said Dukat. “To see me fail, to laugh at me from afar?"

“Oh, believe me, I take no pleasure in watching your interactions with Major Kira. In fact, I find it rather distasteful. Your pathetic attempts at dominance and persuasion are quite telling, you know. You may act like you have everything under control, but nothing could be further from the truth. You may as well just give it up; you’re never going to succeed."

“That’s where you’re wrong, Garak,” said Dukat. "I will succeed, and I will regain control ―"

“Oh please, you’re not fooling anyone,” said Garak. “Anyone could see that your flirting with Major Kira has nothing to do with her and everything to do with what you hope to regain. Perhaps when you were locked in with us on this station, there was little to be gained by your shameless flirting, but now that you’ve lost your family on Cardassia, and gained a half-Bajoran daughter, you are now on the lookout for a Bajoran mother figure, aren’t you? You want to give Ziyal the family she deserves. And I understand that, but Major Kira would never consent to standing in as her mother… let alone acting like a wife to you. Even if you do have a sort of chemistry, that isn’t how she sees it."

“Chemistry?” said Bashir, “Those two? That’s ridiculous."

“Perhaps to you, Doctor, a human who severely lacks the Cardassian sense of romance, and perhaps also to the Major, who shares this lack. But not to a Cardassian. To a Cardassian, there is a thin line between love and hate; both are united in passion, and both unite people in one way or another."

“But hate is… destructive. It doesn’t unite anyone, it just tears them apart!"

“On the contrary ―"

“Oh, enough of this!” said Dukat. "My personal life is none of your business! You forfeited that right when you began this feud between us. You, who tortured my father, who betrayed Cardassia and would do it again―"

“Big talk coming from someone who prizes his family even above the State, and who would betray even his fellow Cardassians if it served your own interests. You are no more Cardassian than I am."

"You are in the least position to mock me for my failures when it is you that is exiled to this forsaken place!"

“I did my duty,” said Garak. “None of us are truly innocent, are we, Dukat? Think of all you’ve done during your career. You don’t think you’ve ever broken anyone’s families apart? You would think that, given the circumstances, it would allow you understand my position a little better. But I suppose you remain a dim-witted fool."

Dukat caught Garak by the throat. Bashir stood up in alarm and fury, demanding Dukat let him go. But Garak didn’t even blink, didn’t flinch, just glared back up at Dukat. He certainly didn’t look surprised.

“I should kill you for what you did to my family," said Dukat, then wrenched one hand back to drag his thumb along the ridges at Garak’s chin, "But there are… far more intricate punishments I would rather impose on you for it."

Garak stood up to face down Dukat, staring him in the eye. Dukat’s hands dropped from Garak as he stepped forward; Dukat stepped back.

“You do not control me,” said Garak.

“We’ll see about that."

This time, it was Garak who caught Dukat by the throat. “Will we?” he said. “You may once have been given power over me, but you never owned that power. Do not think now that we are free men you still hold it. By abandoning me to this desolate station, you freed me. Now you must deal with the consequences of that action. I am my own man now, with a knack for survival and a grudge to hold. So if you plan on threatening me here, you had better have the ability to back it up."

“Garak, let him go,” said Bashir.

Eyeing Bashir, he loosened his grip on Dukat’s throat. Then, seeing the many other eyes upon him, let go.  
Dukat looked disappointed. There was a strange emotion glinting in his eyes.

“You should probably leave,” said Garak, “before this becomes even more of a spectacle when Odo arrests us for assault."

But Dukat was no longer staring at him; he glared daggers into Bashir, who was doing his best not to crumble under the fierce gaze.

Jealousy. Garak smiled, as he came up with a nasty little idea.

“Yes, it’s exactly what you think. Julian and I have grown rather close over the years, after all, so it was only natural ―"

“Stop this!” Dukat snapped. “Perhaps you’re right, Elim,” said Dukat, stalking forward, staring close into Garak’s eyes. “We are both equals on this station, so of course I cannot control what you do. But perhaps, if you would give me a chance to talk ―"

“Very well, start talking."

“Not here. Meet me later… in my quarters."

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea…” said Bashir.

“No one asked you, Human,” Dukat said, side-eyeing him.

“You’ll have to send me your location,” said Garak.

“You’re not serious,” said Bashir.

“I look forward to seeing you there,” said Dukat, then strolled out of Quark’s Bar.

Garak didn’t stop staring after him until Bashir asked, “What the hell was that all about?"

“Another threat, I should think."

“Garak, that wasn’t a threat, that was a..."

"Yes?"

Garak stared politely at Bashir, awaiting his answer.  
“I don’t know what that was,” Bashir finally said.

Ah. So he was electing to keep it subtext after all.

“Indeed…” said Garak.

He watched as Bashir sat back down to the table. Garak joined him.

“You can’t really be thinking of going to meet with him?"

“And why shouldn’t I, doctor?"

“I don’t trust him."

“Neither do I," Garak assured him. “Rest assured I shall take every precaution."

That was all Bashir could ask.

***

Everything Dukat did, he did to be remembered. His service to the State, his seven children, his dedication to his family, the preservation of Cardassia, and his entire philosophy that charm and persuasion defined victory. Legacy was the reason behind all of it.

Although it was true that he had ordered the execution of Elim Garak on more than one occasion ― killing an enemy of his family was surely his own brand of justice and protecting his own ― his current plans towards the man were of an entirely different nature altogether.

At the door chime, Dukat allowed Garak inside. As he stepped inside and the door closed behind him, Garak paused at the sight of Dukat across the room, naked.  
A mix of lust and hate swelled in Garak, as he looked Dukat up and down, especially pausing over his exposed ajan.

“Then you didn’t bring me here just to talk," said Garak.  
Dukat took a few steps forward, and Garak moved towards Dukat, curious.

“Elim,” said Dukat, “I am offering myself to you. All you have to do is take me."

“All this because of a little jealousy?"

“There’s nothing like a threat to spur a man into action. This has been a long time coming."

“Clearly,” said Garak. "Such a small thing to incur an action of this scale must imply a long-held desire. But what makes you think I want you in return?"

“Garak, please,” said Dukat, “after that display in Quark’s? All that rage, all that strength, your hand at my throat…"

"You like being dominated."

"I always have," admitted Dukat. "But what kind of Cardassian man, especially in the Military, allows himself to be dominated?"

Garak smiled to himself. “You have always said anything to justify what you want,” he said, “and refused to give it up no matter what."

“A habit you could learn from."

Garak took a few more steps forward, staring suspiciously into Dukat’s face. “Why,” he asked, “are you doing this? What do you hope to gain from it?"

“Besides the obvious, you mean?" said Dukat. “Well, I admit you were right about my motivations towards Major Kira. I want her, and even more so, I want her as a mother to Ziyal. But to get there, I need you. If there is even a small part of her that wants me, then seeing us together will spur her into action just as I have been brought here now."

Garak looked around the dark room. “Is she here now?” asked Garak, half mocking.

“No,” said Dukat. “I thought perhaps a good fuck beforehand would help sell the story. Consider it as sealing the deal."

“Only a bad liar would need to take such a measure,” said Garak. “I always knew you were a fool, but I didn’t know you were this incompetent. Unless you’re willing to admit that you just want to fuck; you know as well as I do that this would cross the line between truth and lies. But you can’t have us both. If you want me to fake a relationship with you, you can’t fuck me. So I'm asking you to choose."

“Now who’s jealous?” said Dukat. “I cannot be who you’re asking me to be ―”

“No, you just refuse,” said Garak. “You don’t like to deprive yourself anything."

“You aren’t in the slightest bit even intrigued by the prospect? I’m offering myself to you, and all you can do is complain."

Garak took a few more steps forward, into Dukat’s personal space. “I’m not complaining,” he said, “I’m analysing. I’m suspicious." Idly, Garak moved one hand forward, fingers playing at the purse of Dukat’s ajan, even slipping inside. Dukat hummed in pleasure, as Garak’s fingers stimulated him.

"…But it isn’t real."

Garak removed his fingers from Dukat’s ajan, looking him in the eyes. His chufa was burning blue, and there was wanting in his eyes.

“Elim, please…"

Garak drew a phaser, pressing the business end of it under his chin, lifting it up slightly.

“Alright,” Dukat caved. “Alright. A fake relationship. Just a fake relationship… It could benefit you as well. That boy toy of yours, Bashir ―” Garak lifted the phaser higher, and Dukat paused. “You could have him, too. You could draw him out…"

Garak drew back the phaser, merely pointing it at Dukat now. 

Finally, he was intrigued. “Deal,” said Garak.

***

 _100 Years of Solitude_ is a Human novel which bares some resemblance to the Cardassian repetitive epic _The Never-Ending Sacrifice_ , in that it too follows a family who, over the course of a century, continues to make the same choices over and over again. In the Earth novel, however, this repeated choice is shown to be an abomination which leads the Buendía family to seclude themselves within their own family until the whole family line is extinguished. This choice is made yet more disgraceful when it is revealed that the fall was predicted 100 years before.

The Earth novel carries the opposite message that _The Never-Ending Sacrifice_ does: rather than promoting the idea of duty to the State, it warns of the degradation that can come of becoming too devoted to family. It is an allegory about isolation, how it cuts you off from the world at large and twists you against it. And that was exactly the kind of man that Dukat had become.

The book had more than that to tell him, though. Despite his devotion to the State even above family, it was relatively simple for Garak to make such a sacrifice, due to his isolation even from his own family members. His father, Enabran Tain, had not even been known to him as his father until many years after his childhood. 

But Tain had also imposed his will upon Garak in a similar fashion to the Buendías: not only was Garak isolated from his own family members, but also from relationships outside the family household, because it went against their expectations of him ― just like Meme was destroyed by her family for falling in love with someone her family didn’t approve of.

Garak had long suffered in isolation, but he hadn’t yet been destroyed. In the eyes of the Bajorans as well as his own people, he was a traitor. He was not so bad a villain to the Bajorans as was Dukat. However, at least Dukat was considered a hero back home; Garak was a hero nowhere.

DS9 may have been the scene of Garak's death had it not been for Julian Bashir, but yet although he owed the doctor his life, he still suffered his isolation most sharply on DS9. Separated from his whole race, his planet, he was irredeemable and useless. He had been tossed away, forgotten, reviled. He was faced with the eyes of the Bajorans, full of the same revulsion that his own people looked at him with, every day.

Garak may be the enemy of Dukat’s family, but Dukat's own wife and seven children had left him when they had learned of Ziyal. Perhaps now that Dukat and Garak had both fallen from grace, there was hope for reconciliation between them. This could all be a blessing in disguise, a chance to shake off the chains of expectation.

Even if their relationship was fake.

Therein lay the problem: Garak himself had decided to enter into this hoax, but there was, underneath it, some fear in him that he would only drive away the few people in his life that had come to care about him, with a lie like this.

This hoax would require equal parts defiance and trust. Defiance to make this bold declaration without showing his fear, and trust to be vulnerable with Dukat and not believe him to betray that trust.

When Garak entered Quark’s Bar, he found Bashir sat down to eat with a group of his friends. Bashir glanced over, but when O’Brien looked at him suspiciously, he turned his back on Garak. 

Garak ordered some kanar at the bar. But when he turned back, he caught Bashir looking again.

“Maybe we should invite Garak to the table.”

“Nah, leave him be,” he heard O’Brien reply. “He wants to be alone, let him."

Bashir turned his back again.

And that was their relationship, what it had become, in a nutshell.

Then Dukat walked in, and Garak ordered a second glass for him. But rather than join him at the counter, Dukat had spotted Bashir steadfastly ignoring Garak, crossing his legs in frustration.

Approaching behind him, Dukat put his hands on Bashir’s shoulders, and began to massage them. Bashir shut his eyes at the sensation and hummed in satisfaction.

Her face twisting in fury, Kira demanded Dukat to let him go.

Bashir’s eyes snapped open. “Dukat?” he repeated, and craned his neck up to find Dukat smirking down at him.  
Bursting out of his seat, Bashir turned to face Dukat, horror in his features.

Stepping between them, Garak carried over two glasses of kanar and offered Dukat one.

“Skrain, stop teasing the man,” said Garak, as Dukat accepted the glass and downed it in one.

" _Skrain_?" Kira repeated.

“That’s right, Major,” said Dukat, "that is my name, after all. How kind of you to make use of it."

“That’s not what I ―"

“Oh, yes, I’m sure. But one of these days, you’ll figure out I'm really not as bad as you make me out to be ―"

“No. You’re worse,” she said.

“More importantly, since when are you and Garak on first name terms?" said Bashir.

“Why, since we became lovers, of course,” said Dukat with a wide smile.

“You cannot be serious!” said Bashir, a little too loudly. He turned furiously to Garak, who forced himself still under Bashir’s gaze and smiled. “You’re dating Dukat?"

“As he said, doctor,” said Garak.

"But… why?"

“It has been a long time coming,” said Garak. “There has always been a great amount of chemistry between us."

"But… you’re always arguing!"

“Exactly, my dear doctor. I have always known conversation was the key to my heart. And argument is something no Cardassian can resist."

“Seriously?” said Bashir, a little more quietly, and Garak breathed in relief. “Then, all those conversations we had…"

“You were a fine companion,” said Garak, “and a passionate conversationalist. I admit that at times there was a palpable attraction. But now that I’m with Skrain, I have moved on."

“Garak, if you’d only told me ―"

“You’d what, have flirted with me properly? But you abandoned me, doctor. We might as well let this die, whatever it was between us."

“It isn’t dead, Garak, we could ―”

“Oh, doctor, you are forever the optimist. But I’m afraid you’re too late."

“How did this happen? _When_ did this happen?"

“A question I’m curious of, myself,” added Jadzia.

“Why, do you have something riding on this?" Garak asked her.

“Nothing gets past you,” said Jadzia. “Quark’s been wise to you for years now; he started a betting pool on you years ago about when you’d finally get lucky. A lot of people already lost their bets thinking you would get here a lot sooner."

“But not you."

“I have the advantage of lifetimes. I know a coward when I see one."

Dukat leaned into Garak’s shoulder, whispering in his ear, “You’re not going to let that stand, are you?"

“Although,” continued Jadzia, “if this relationship started awhile ago, then perhaps I did lose my bet. I’ve clearly lost the one on who it would be. Who would’ve suspected you’d end up with Dukat?"

“Vulgar,” Garak complained. “Does the Ferengi really have nothing better to do than start betting pools on my love life?"

“Actually, I’m curious,” said Dukat. “Is this station really so invested in Elim’s personal life? Should I be worried about any potential rivals?"

“Well, smart money was on Julian."

“What?” said Julian.

"Okay, I’ve heard just about enough of this,” complained Kira. "I cannot believe the people of this station would be so preoccupied with _Garak_ , of all people."

“Well, he _is_ the only Cardassian on the station,” said Jadzia. “That’s bound to attract attention."

“What about Ziyal?"

“Alright, the only full-blooded Cardassian. Ziyal is something else entirely,” said Jadzia.

“Don’t forget, that’s my daughter you’re talking about,” Dukat reminded her.

“I know, I never said she wasn’t,” said Jadzia. “You should be proud of her; she’s a much better person than you. I don’t know about you, but I do know both she and Garak are the subjects of gossip on the station. It’s actually quite exciting to speculate about."

“Jadzia! You can’t possibly be okay with this!” said Kira.

“Why not? It’s fun," said Jadzia. “Besides, at least this way you have no reason to worry about Dukat hitting on you anymore."

“Oh, like that’s ever stopped him."

“Such bitter resentment, Major,” said Dukat. “One might almost think you were jealous."

“Over a megalomaniac psychopath like you? Please!"

“Then where, I wonder, is this anger coming from?"

“This _anger_ ,” said Kira, “is coming from the fact that you are _evil_ , and I cannot congratulate anyone who would align themselves with you!"

“I don’t believe anyone asked you,” said Garak.

“You may not have asked, but I don’t care if you approve or not. I think you’re making a mistake!"

“Do you, now?"

“Absolutely! I don’t give a damn what goes through your twisted Cardassian brain, you can’t seriously trust Dukat not to betray you at some point, can you? I mean the man has had it out for you for years, and suddenly all of that just doesn’t matter anymore?"

“Dukat and I talked that over and have decided to trust each other."

“You can’t seriously expect me to buy that? You can’t seriously buy that yourself!"

“Major, I’m perfectly well-aware of Skrain’s and my personal history, and I know the things he’s done. Now I’m not going to pretend that this was a light decision, for either of us, because it wasn’t. Frankly, I don’t care if you approve or not, but I’m going to be with him, and that is that. I… I care deeply about him, and I don’t need you or anyone else to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do. I… I think he’s worth the risk."

It was a speech filled with equal parts love and uncertainty, and Garak knew it was spoken from the heart, the small part of it that still dared to hold onto hope. Maybe one day it might become true.

“So, when did it happen?" Jadzia asked.

“Last night,” said Dukat, wrapping his arm around Garak’s shoulders.

“Ha,” cheered Jadzia. "Beat Sisko again."

“What a shame,” griped Garak with a flat stare.

“Never mind that!” cried Kira. “Is no one even in the least bit concerned about this?"

“ _I_ am,” said O'Brien.

“Finally! Someone who’s on my side!” cried Kira.

“I don’t like him, either, but you’ve got to admit, this is shaping up to be a pretty interesting evening,” said Jadzia. “All this drama."

“More trouble than it’s worth, if you ask me,” said O’Brien, shovelling food into his face.

“Well, if that’s how you feel, Chief, then I feel sorry for you,” replied Dukat.

O’Brien swallowed. 

“Sorry,” repeated O’Brien flatly, “for me?"

Dukat raised his empty glass to him, “That you will miss out on so much in life running away from the things that make life worth living,” he said. “Risk is a part of life, as is drama. If you can’t accept that, then you’re not living a full life. But don’t worry. If it really bothers you so much, Elim and I won’t take up too much of your time."

O’Brien looked back at Dukat, gobsmacked. Then he turned angry. “I’ll have you know I live a very full life! You have no right judge my life when you’re running around… enslaving Bajorans and… terrorising civilizations."

“In case you haven’t noticed, Bajor is a free state now, but even when it was colonised by Cardassia ―"

“Oh, don’t tell me, it was all for their own good, right?” fired back O’Brien. “Don’t bother. There is no justification for it. It was one brutal regime working its slaves to death in labour camps."

“I had no idea you were a Bajoran history expert, Chief,” said Dukat.

“I’m not. Your regime isn’t the only one in the universe to have committed atrocities. You know, I have ancestors who had to fight for their own freedoms. My ―"

“As fascinating as I’m sure that is, I didn’t come here to talk about the Occupation. It’s over now, and I’d rather focus on the future."

“You _would_ ―"

“Hold that thought Chief,” said Dukat, “I’m just going to get more drinks."

“Don’t bother coming back when you do!” O’Brien called after him.

As Dukat moved to the bar to order more drinks. Garak pulled up a chair from another table and drank the remainders from his own glass.

“Is he always this dramatic?” Garak asked Bashir.

Bashir gave O'Brien a look. Without even speaking, he seemed to confirm it.

O’Brien looked between them. “And what’s that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

“I didn’t say anything,” said Bashir.

“No, but you shared a look!"

“A look?” said Bashir, looking with mock confusion briefly at Garak. “I don’t know what you mean."

“It wasn’t nothing! I know you had a look!"

Garak turned to Bashir. “You must be drawn to drama,” he said. “You were friends with me for a long time, after all. It makes sense that you would choose to surround yourself with dramatic friends."

“Hey! I am not dramatic!” cried O'Brien.

“Actually,” said Jadzia, “I think he has a point. You have a quick temper; that’s bound to spice things up."

"What?!"

The table burst into laughter, and O’Brien glared at the reaction. “We’re not really going to dine with Dukat, are we?" he asked when it died down.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” said Kira.

Bashir merely shrugged. “It seems to mean something to Garak. I don’t know about you, but I’m staying. I’m still his friend, after all."

“If you say so…" replied O’Brien, looking thoroughly unconvinced.

“You don’t have to stay."

“I’ll be damned if I’m letting Dukat kick me out of here,” retorted Kira.

“Second that,” agreed O'Brien, and dug back into his potatoes.

Dukat returned with a bottle of kanar, and drew a chair up to sit between Garak and Bashir. He topped up his and Garak’s glasses.

“Oh, no,” said O’Brien, “you’re not sitting with us."

“And why not? The doctor isn’t only your friend," said Garak.

“It doesn’t mean _we_ have to socialise!" said O'Brien.

“Yeah, and who said you could join us?” demanded Kira.

“I don’t take orders from you, Major,” said Dukat. “You are welcome to leave."

“It isn’t me who should leave, you’re the one invading on my space."

“This is a public area," said Dukat in mock surprise, “you don’t own this space. Unless I’m very much mistaken."

“I believe not,” said Garak. “As far as I know, this bar is still the property of Quark."

“You two are a real piece of work, you know that?” said O’Brien, jabbing a fork in their direction. “No wonder you got together."

“Oh, please,” said Kira. “They don’t belong together any more than you and I do."

Garak only smiled back at her, but Kira chose to interpret that smile as if she had just admitted to carrying some jealousy towards them.

“Don’t look at me like that!” she retorted. “Save your smiles for someone who gives a damn. You don’t love each other! Behind your facetious smiles lie two lonely, desperate souls who are too cold-blooded to ever love anyone without needing to possess them, and too afraid of vulnerability to ever have an honest conversation like the one you claim to have had! I don’t know what sick Cardassian games you’re playing, but I’m not playing. So go find someone who will, or better yet, just drop it and learn to live in the world like you’re a part of it, rather than trying to be so above us all the time."

“Well spoken Major―” began Dukat.

“Don’t you start,” demanded Kira. “Whatever it is that caused you to intrude on our dinner, you can talk it out like rational adults; I don’t want to hear about it. And I definitely don’t want to have to sit through dinner with your overcomplicated drama. If you think for even one second I’m jealous of any of it, then you’re dead wrong. You can have him."

“You’re making a mistake,” said Dukat.

“Am I?” said Kira. “You know, I may not be, but _he_ should be jealous. You’ve gone through more lovers than birthdays."

“Why, thank you, Major,” said Dukat.

“Not a compliment, Dukat."

"And I... I am not _jealous_ ,” said Garak.

“Then you’re not paying enough attention,” said Kira. “He’s full of treachery, and sooner or later he’ll betray you, too."

“Ah,” said Garak. “I stand corrected. You’re not jealous, you’re hurt."

“Say one more word, Garak, and I swear ―"

“You’ll what?” replied Dukat, getting up from his seat to stare her down.

She glared back at him, before she realised… he had planted one arm in front of Garak, as though to protect him.

Kira was astonished. “It’s true. You really do care about him. I’m impressed; I didn’t think you had it in you."

Neither did Garak. He really did see Dukat as being far too self-involved to care about anyone or anything beyond a selfish level.

“You know, it’s not really flattering when you rate me on such a low bar."

“Good. That was the point."

Garak looked across at Dukat in a new light. From Dukat’s side, Garak’s eyes slid slowly up his neck to his face in profile, the shadows and angles of Dukat's face thrown into stark relief. His slender neck, and the wide ridges splaying out from it, looked especially beautiful.

Dukat’s expression was hard and serious, matching her fire with calm. Then he broke the tension slightly with a smile.

He sat back down and took up his glass again. For a moment, Garak watched Dukat as he drank.

Dukat eyed him. "What?"

"Nothing."

Bashir looked between them and smiled. “You really love him, don’t you?” he asked Garak.

Since this was a fake relationship, he couldn’t really say no. “Yeah, I really do,” he said. And by the Union, he thought he really meant it.

But as Dukat turned those same eyes on him, Garak was swallowed up by them. His heart pounded, and before he knew what he was doing, Garak dragged Dukat in by his neck ridges and kissed him.

That was certainly one way to play his role. Garak surprised even himself. He really committed to it, even while inside he was screaming.

Dukat’s neck ridges heated up under Garak’s hands. Dukat kissed back fervently, as their tongues plunged each others’ mouths. So many long years untouched, denied connection; he wanted to hold on to this brief moment for as long as possible.

Dukat, too, must have felt it, because he held him a little closer. He didn’t pull away. It seemed he was happy right here; he was far too absorbed by Garak’s mouth, his tongue, to think about anything else.

O’Brien loudly cleared his throat, and Garak finally pulled away. “We’re still here, you know,” said O'Brien.

Jadzia was smiling. Bashir was blushing.

Sheepishly, Garak turned from them, and watched Dukat carefully.

Dukat fiercely stared back, unabashedly absorbed in Garak. It was disconcerting the way Dukat looked at him, as though Garak had just signed his confession and now Dukat could read the truth written on his heart.

That could be anything in his eyes; love, or lust, or power. Garak didn’t know what it was, let alone how he should react.

“Well, this has been most enlightening,” said Dukat, straightening up to stand. “But now, Elim and I really must be going."

“By all means," said O’Brien, gesturing at the door.

Dukat moved to leave, but Garak grasped his wrist, squeezing it in a tight vise. Looking questioningly at Garak, he was caught off-guard to see terse determination there.

"Garak…?"

Garak couldn’t reveal to him the truth, couldn’t tell Dukat how much he truly desired him. He knew he really shouldn't. But damn him, because he was burning to take him away and show him.

He stood and grabbed the kanar. “You’re absolutely right. It’s time we left our company to their meals,” he said. And holding the bottle in one hand and Dukat in the other, Garak led him to the exit.

When they reached it, Garak threw Dukat’s wrist away, intending to confront him but finding himself lost for words.

“Take me back to your quarters,” Dukat said. Demanding, as always.

Defiance, and trust. That’s what pulling off this act would take. Dukat appeared to have both in abundance, but Garak was still full of suspicion. Perhaps hiding in the shadows of the Order was more conducive to secrecy than having a career in Central Command that involved overcoming every possible scandal that came under his spotlight.

Dukat repeated his demand, and it was like a lifeline. Garak latched onto the defiance and trust in his words, forced himself ― no, allowed himself, for it was what he truly wanted ― to listen to that voice inside that was saying, 'yes!'

When Garak had kissed him, he had unleashed a long-forgotten fantasy in his mind and transformed it into a reality. Now Garak only wanted more. His blood rushed through his body, throbbed, pounded. His chufa heated up; it must be flushing blue. Certainly he could resist, but why would he? Surely he was allowed this, wasn’t he? Even if it wasn’t real… there was something real hidden inside it.

There was a loathing there, but there was also an attraction, and there always had been. But Dukat had always hated him too much; Garak had never thought he’d have this chance. He should’ve seen the signs, taken the hint; there had been a mutual sexual tension for years.

But that was all it could be.

Roughly grabbing Dukat by the shoulder, Garak shoved Dukat up into the doorframe leading out of Quark’s Bar. Then with a glare, he dropped his hand, to lead him out to the Promenade ―

―but Dukat grabbed onto his wrist with his free hand, refusing to let go.

Those same fierce eyes. So full of passion and determination. It was a power play, he was sure. _Let the whole Promenade see_ , he seemed to say. _Let them see that we’re about to go fuck each others’ brains out_.

Garak had two options: either drag him back to his quarters, which allowed for the possibility of intimacy between them, or else break character and risk alienating Dukat.

One thing was certain: he was not going to allow Dukat to have control of the situation.

Wrenching his wrist from Dukat’s grip, he returned his look with a fierce glare. A moment later, Garak grabbed Dukat's shoulder again and shoved him out the door.

The eyes of many passers by followed them as Garak dragged Dukat by his arm back to his quarters.

Garak felt the contempt, the disgust, the judgement on his back as he dragged Dukat along, but he simply forced these thoughts from his mind. After enduring this gauntlet of eyes, Garak finally found himself dragging Dukat along an empty hallway towards his room.

Now that he was so close, Garak started to second-guess himself. What was he supposed to do once they reached his quarters? Share a drink? Suppose that was a start.

He charged forward, dragging Dukat behind him.

“Eager, are we?” teased Dukat.

That comment set his teeth on edge. He yanked on Dukat’s arm in frustration.

Suddenly, they were in front of his door. Garak froze at it, confronted by its appearance. Once he crossed this threshold…

“Well? Aren’t you going to invite me in?” asked Dukat.

Indeed there was little else to do. He wracked his brain for an escape, but they had already come this far. 

So he opened the door. “After you,” he said, stalling.

Dukat entered. Garak followed him inside and locked the door. He breathed in to steady himself, and put down the bottle of kanar on a nearby table.

But then he turned to Dukat, who was already so close they were breathing the same air. Dukat’s breath was hot, and for a moment Garak forgot what he was doing.

Garak’s mind wandered to that tongue, and before he knew it, he was slamming Dukat into the nearest wall and tasting that tongue. 

Dukat kissed back, wrapping his limbs around Garak and crushing their bodies together.

When they finally parted for breath, Garak watched him in astonishment, his senses flooded by Dukat’s appearance: his chufa had darkened to a dull blue, his eyes raged with desire, and his neck ridges had darkened.

Looking over Dukat, Garak was tempted to go further, but there was a part of him still holding back. Dukat watched him, as if daring him to reject him now, waiting for Garak’s response.

It was not too late; Garak could still turn him away. He still had a will to fight this, it may even be stronger than his desire to stay. But Garak didn’t want to fight it; he wanted pleasure. He had fought it so hard for so long, and what was it worth anymore?

"Strip."

“Are you _mad_?" replied Dukat.

“You wanted this."

If this was to be a negotiation, Dukat had admitted to him that he liked being dominated. And that was just fine with Garak, who needed to be in control in this.  
So Dukat could have the first humiliation, and strip for Garak. And if Dukat felt resentment for that… let him.

“Strip,” repeated Garak. “If you do, I’ll let you _see_ me, and _touch_ me, and _kiss_ me. Whatever you want."

“And if I don’t?” replied Dukat.

“Then I’ll kick you out."

“You wouldn’t."

“I’d do it just to see the look on your face,” Garak said with a smirk.

Dukat looked at Garak for a moment. Then he stepped back, and started to work on his clasps. There was a sparkle in his eyes and a smirk on his lips as his chest plate fell, and he looked up at Garak.

Then he removed his pants and boots, until Dukat stood completely naked before Garak.

“Now you."

“Patience, Dukat,” said Garak. “There will be plenty of time for that. First, I want you to pile your clothes neatly on the couch behind you."

“You damned tease ―"

“I have no intention on going back on my word. Now do it."

With an angry snarl, Dukat picked up his clothes ―

"Attitude."

Dukat straightened up and carried the clothes to the couch, soundlessly putting them down on it.

"Neatly."

With a frustrated huff, Dukat stacked his chest plates halves together, folded his pants, and placed his boots upright next to them.

He turned to Garak, who gave him a look. Dukat loosened his shoulders, forcing himself to let go of the attitude.

"Now kiss me."

“Finally."

Striding towards him, Dukat eagerly reached forward and drew their mouths together, impatient and aggressive.

Garak pulled away again.

“What is it this time?"

“You do not lead; I do."

Slowly drawing their lips back together, Garak kissed Dukat carefully, pressing their lips neatly together until Dukat found his rhythm and kissed him back. The kiss grew as gradually tongues were added, exploring each others mouths with gentle licks and caresses, drinking in the taste of each other.

Dukat’s body grew insistent again, squeezing Garak in his arms and pressing his body into Garak’s. Hands pulled at Garak’s collar, as he reached up to caress his neck ridges.

Breaking the kiss, Garak encouraged the touch with a soft moan.

Stroking along the length of Garak’s neck ridges, Dukat’s hands were firm, pressing hard. Garak moaned more emphatically as he exposed his neck to Dukat.  
The sound went straight to Dukat’s ajan, and he yanked at Garak’s collar, his insistence growing uncontrollable now. Pressing his ajan into Garak’s pants front, he practically begged for him to take his clothes off.

“I love hearing you whine,” said Garak.

“Just give me what I want,” complained Dukat.

As though to encourage him, Dukat bit hard into the scales of Garak’s neck ridges, sucking and licking at them with his heated tongue. Blood rushed tantalisingly to the spot, and Garak cried with pleasure, needing more.

He took off his shirt.

“Very good,” said Dukat. “Now let’s see about this..." he said, groping the crotch of Garak’s pants.

Licking and sucking at Garak’s chula, Dukat slowly trailed kisses and bites down Garak’s chest until he reached the waist of his pants.

Dukat looked up, mischief in his eyes, and Garak nodded his approval.

Stripping off Garak’s pants, Dukat began to tease Garak’s chuva, when he noticed that Garak’s prUt was already poking out of his ajan.

Dukat raised an eye ridge up at Garak. “We _are_ eager,” he said.

Putting his lips over Garak's prUt, Dukat allowed it to slide into his mouth as it emerged from Garak’s ajan. Garak widened his legs as Dukat took him in. Closing his eyes, Garak allowed himself the sensations that were flowing through his body, as he let Dukat to do as he pleased to it.

When had their relationship devolved into one of trust and giving? Right now, Garak didn’t feel humiliated at his exposure; in fact, he even felt pleasure at the way Dukat was sucking so exquisitely on his member.  
But since when had Garak ever given over the most vulnerable parts of him to Dukat of all people, trusting him not to hurt him? Since when had Dukat not betrayed him in turn?

Right now, Dukat wasn’t betraying him; in fact, he offered him a joy that was rare for him. He was not used to feeling so proud in his vulnerability, so connected, so free.

But this wasn’t real, right? At the end of this, they’d just go back to what they were before.

Even he didn’t believe that lie. What he did know was that Dukat was bound to betray him eventually. Garak would simply have to end it before it got to that point.  
But not now. Not while Dukat was doing _that_.

Garak let out a wanton moan as Dukat sucked hard on Garak’s prUt. He was starting to come undone, all other thoughts about Dukat and his motivations flying out of his head. All he knew was he absolutely didn’t want him to stop.

Spreading his legs even further apart, Garak at last let go completely and allowed this to happen.

It was then that Dukat stopped and pulled away from him.

Garak groaned in frustration, even anger. "What...?"

Looking down, Garak watched as Dukat smirked up at him, looking thoroughly self-satisfied.

Damn. That’s what he wanted all along: for Garak to let go. It had been some cruel trick. And for what?

“Perhaps we should adjourn to the bedroom,” said Dukat.

 _Oh_. Had Garak misjudged him? Or did Dukat have some other agenda? Besides sex, that was.

Whatever it was, Garak knew he couldn’t go back now. As Dukat walked away, he grinned when he saw Garak was watching, and swaggered over to the bed in the next room.

His prUt now exposed to the cold air, Garak finished pulling off his shoes and pants and eagerly followed Dukat to the bedroom, a little irked to leave his clothes behind on the floor.

There was nothing for it. He needed _heat_.

Although a few lingering doubts remained, it was not enough to stop himself. He had strained against the confines of his shell for so long; this time, he felt like he was shedding his skin for the new one underneath.  
This was just further proof that this was not Cardassia; men like them, who indulged in such behaviour, had no place there. But at least here, on this cold, distant waystation, they had the freedom to indulge their long-buried desires.

“Well? What are you standing there for?” said Dukat, who was already sprawled out on the bed before Garak, one knee lifted up with a hand resting on top. “Come and fuck me."

He really was the cockiest bastard Garak had ever seen. _Cardassia_ , he loved him.

No ― this wasn’t about love, or trust, or romance.  
But fuck, he was sexy.

This was just to relieve the tension in his body, enough to last the long stretch of isolation to follow. Telling himself that, Garak crawled onto the bed, watching Dukat’s face, loving and hating him at the same time.  
Dukat laid back with a grin, enjoying the drag of their bodies as he spread his legs and Garak moved himself up to meet Dukat’s gaze.

When Garak had brought himself up to hover over Dukat’s face, he glared down at him, pinning Dukat's wrists to the bed on either side of his head. Pressing his lips to Dukat’s, Garak slipped his hands down to caress his neck ridges.

As those hands elicited moans and shudders through his body, Dukat wrapped his arms around Garak’s torso and grinded their chests together. Moaning against Garak’s mouth, he felt his wet ajan start throbbing.

“Mm, take me,” moaned Dukat. “I know you want me…"

Garak dug his fingers into Dukat’s neck ridges, pulling him closer, forcing Dukat to look into his fiery eyes. “This isn’t real."

“Do you really still believe that?"

“I have to. I don’t trust in your loyalty. If I take what I want ― _you_ ― the only part of you I take is your body. I know how this ends. So I'll take what I can get."

Dukat smirked. “Then take it."

Groping Dukat’s thighs, Garak pulled them eagerly apart, spread his slit wide open and exposing that wide wet hole. 

Dragging the head of his prUt until it rested at the entrance of that hole, Dukat shuddered and gasped enticingly at the touch. Capturing his lips in another kiss, Garak slipped inside.

As Garak slid into Dukat’s ajan, Dukat squirmed under him, clenching Garak’s prUt as it pushed forward into his passage. Dukat pressed his hips forward greedily, inviting him in.

“You like this, don’t you?" said Garak. “You love me inside you…"

“Shut up and fuck me."

Garak pressed his hips forward. 

“Ah!” cried Dukat.

“You don’t call the shots here. _I_ do!"

Garak’s prUt slipped further inside. Dukat was so wet, tight and throbbing around him. He felt so good. 

Suddenly, something brushed up against the underside of Garak’s prUt, growing in size.

Dukat shifted his hips, so that his everting prUt slipped around Garak’s shaft and towards his ajan.

Garak’s hand wrapped around the head, and the advance of Dukat’s member was halted. He squeezed, hard. Dukat grunted in frustration.

“You don’t evert until I tell you to."

“I hate you,” said Dukat.

“I know you do."

Dukat tried bucking in Garak’s hand, trying to move, but it was no use. He just wasn’t getting enough stimulation in his cock.

So Dukat threw his head back into the pillows and gave in to Garak, who soon bottomed out in his ajan and began rubbing the base of his prUt off on the delicate folds of Dukat’s entrance.

"Elim… _Elim…_ " moaned Dukat. " _Oh…_ "

Blue eyes pierced through a haze of lust like a searchlight as they stared back down at Garak. That gaze was custom designed to cut at Garak’s heart, to tear down his walls and make him vulnerable, to make his heart bleed for Dukat.

Staring into his eyes, he could already feel the pull. There was something more than lust behind those eyes. There was need, and vulnerability there. His eyes pleaded with Garak, as though begging him not to break his heart.

His grip slipped, and Dukat's cock slid through Garak's fist and into his ajan.

Sliding into him, Garak’s walls were shattered, and he could feel the fear shining out of his eyes. Fear, because he knew he loved Dukat, and he was giving himself to him, and now Dukat could see that, too.  
And Dukat just smiled back at him, as his cock slid further inside Garak, and a perverse pleasure sparked in his eyes.

Garak had to get control of this situation back. Desperately.

But it was too late now; if he pulled out now, he would have pull out of Dukat’s ajan too, and it pulled so wonderfully on his cock that, just reaching the edge of his climax, so tantalisingly out of reach, he’d never find release. The very idea of it was torturous.

He really was playing the most infuriating game. By turning on the charm and handing over the power to Garak, he allowed Garak to fall into a false sense of security. Then he made his power play and in doing so, forced Garak to acknowledge the power Dukat also held over him. It was brilliant. And Garak really hated him for it.

Now his hateful passion overtook him, as Garak drove his hips hard into Dukat’s ajan. As he ground himself hard and fast against the sensitive flesh of Dukat’s purse, his prUt filled with liquid, singing with sensation, ready to burst.

Yet at the same time, he felt Dukat prUt inside of him, and knew he was vulnerable. As Dukat’s cock slid into him, it filled him out perfectly, and Garak found himself fucking himself on his cock even as he fucked Dukat.  
He knew already that allowing Dukat inside him would lead him to exaggerate his importance to Garak. He also knew that if he came in Dukat first, and hard, he would only prove his point. If he cared at all about his dignity, or his self-preservation, he should quit now, deny Dukat his climax.

Furiously, he bucked against Dukat, chasing his climax.  
He had lost all his self control. He had been transformed into this pathetic creature, this animal mindlessly fucking, all body and no mind.

Their shafts slid against each other as they both fucked each other, their bases grinding against each other and sparking a fire between them.

Garak relished the feeling, which only drove him faster to his climax. Moans escaped him as the pressure built up, and the roll of his hips turned to writhing.

Garak came hard into Dukat. Dukat clamped down on him as Garak spilled his entire load into him.

Dukat’s climax followed soon after, as Garak’s ajan tightened around him and he came.

Sinking against the pillow as Dukat caught his breath back, their prUts withdrew, and Garak allowed himself a moment to cherish the sensation of Dukat’s ajan throbbing around him as his prUt dragged back along the walls of Dukat's ajan as it retreated back into his body.

Soon reality set in. Forcing himself away from Dukat’s body, full of the fear and shame that had just been wrenched to the surface, Garak looked into Dukat’s eyes.

There was a soul-deep attraction when he stared into them. It was alien, foreign, unfamiliar. They were eyes sparkling with soft affection; that only made things worse.

He had allowed the power to shift into Dukat’s hands, had let him fuck him, and now Dukat would be hungry for more.

He could starve, as far as Garak was concerned. He could not let himself fall into a relationship with this man.

"No..." said Garak.

Now fear filled those soulful eyes. It struck at Garak’s heart, and almost paralysed him enough to stay, and take it all back. But somehow, he found the strength to back away off the bed, and away from him.

Dukat sat bolt upright, ready to follow after Garak at a moment’s notice.

“No, you do not love me..." Garak said.

“Garak, what are you saying?” said Dukat. “You love me, don’t you?"

“You don’t love anyone. You use people and spit them out again. That’s all this was. Nothing more."

“Garak, listen to me! That’s not what this is. You’re different ―"

"Liar."

“We’re alike, aren’t we, you and I?” said Dukat. “We live lives in the shadows, isolated, burdened with responsibility ―"

“I’m nothing but a simple tailor now,” said Garak.

“We live our lives alone,” insisted Dukat. “We understand each other."

“That’s no basis for a relationship,” said Garak. “In the end, we will only tear each other apart, as we always do."

“Garak, please, I love ―"

“No, don’t say it,” said Garak. “You’re right, we do live our lives in isolation. And that’s all it can ever be. This is all we can ever have. You don’t get to have it all, Dukat, not this time. You don’t get to have me. I can’t do this anymore, I can’t pretend to be yours…"

“Garak, please!” cried Dukat, following Garak to the door to the main room and pulling him back from it. “You’re just afraid. I am too. But we can get through this together."

Garak stared back into Dukat’s eyes. There was a part of himself that wanted to reach out and touch him, but he resisted. “What are we doing?” he said instead. “Faking a relationship to what, make others jealous? Kira, Bashir, they care nothing for us. And as for you and I… there is no you and I. There never can be, not with everything we’ve done to each other."

“You don’t mean that."

“I’ve never meant anything more in my life,” said Garak. “I will not let you use me this way. I will not come crawling to you to dig myself out of this hole. I put myself here. I am no stranger to solitude."

“It isn’t solitude if you’re _suffering_ ,” said Dukat, “and I know you are. You’re allowed this, Garak. You’re allowed comfort, you’re allowed relationships―"

“You’re my enemy."

“No...” Dukat looked at him like his heart was breaking. Garak forced himself to look, searching for the lie. He couldn’t find it.

“Get out,” said Garak.

“You’re making a mistake,” said Dukat.

“Out! Now!” yelled Garak.

Dukat stared mournfully at Garak as he got dressed and then left without a word.

***

After Garak kicked Dukat out of his room, he tried hard not to think of him, but he did, anyway. 

He couldn’t help it; he couldn’t escape the fact that they could be more to each other than just enemies. When he thought of Dukat, he didn’t think of him as vile and disgusting, or about how much he wanted to hurt him, or burn at the rage at their past together.

No, instead he found his mind lingering over the image of his body, a taut stomach or a quivering thigh or a mouth twisted up in the throes of an orgasm, and derived the greatest amount of pleasure from the thought. There was a part of him that hated himself for that, but recently it had faded to background noise.

But he had lost control, and let Dukat penetrate him. Even now, the shadow of it lingered in Garak’s mind and body. He could still feel it, and he liked it. What he didn’t like was how vulnerable it made him feel, how Dukat had made him open up.

And if the man ever came back for him, Garak would make sure he punished him for doing so.

He knew this was sex, not torture, but they were practically the same. Both physical, both giving and receiving something to the body. It was pleasure, not pain, so it was hardly a fair equivalent to the days when Dukat had tried to have him executed, to avenge Garak’s torture of his father. But whatever tactic he had to use, it would still be satisfying to re-balance the scales.

But it was not to be. Garak didn’t know when Dukat had departed the station, but he was sure he had to have gone by now.

Leaving him in peace, for once.

Now they had returned to their ordinary lives, Garak to his tailor shop and Dukat to his exile commanding freighters.

This was the price they both paid for living such scheming, deceitful lives. Neither of them were innocent men, and neither of them deserved forgiveness nor happiness.

Dukat could justify anything he needed to in order to take what he wanted. Even the most treacherous actions could become noble in that twisted mind. But Dukat didn’t deserve Garak’s trust, nor anyone else's.  
Garak imagined Dukat going about his life much as Garak was: carrying out his obligations while this secret in his chest tore at him inside, black and heavy and full of loss.

But maybe Dukat didn’t feel the same way for Garak as Garak did for Dukat. Dukat was never one to deny himself; he would insist he deserved every privilege he fought for, including pleasure or Garak’s heart. If Dukat really cared about Garak, he would be here.

"So… this is where you’ve been hiding yourself…” 

Garak looked up to see Dukat stroll into his tailor’s shop. He was surprised to see him there.

“You’ve been busy," said Dukat.

“I haven’t been hiding,” said Garak. “I’m a tailor, I’ve been sewing."

“There are limits to how much time you can spend in here. You know, when I assigned this job for you, it was intended as a punishment. I never imagined you would flourish in the role or that it would eventually become your escapism. Although, somehow I doubt even now your heart’s really in it. But maybe that’s the point; you’re running away from your ―"

“Enough," said Garak. “Shouldn’t you be off this station by now?"

“Without saying goodbye? How little you think of me, Garak."

Garak put down his work on the table and marched around it to face Dukat more directly. “You are not here to say goodbye to me,” he said. “You are looking for something from me. Well, you’re not going to find it. It should never have happened."

“Garak, you wound me,” said Dukat, and Garak sensed a mocking note in it. “What about our arrangement? Our relationship?"

“It’s over."

“Just like that? Come now, you must admit that there’s something poetic about our fake relationship becoming real as it has ―"

“No, it hasn’t,” said Garak. “There’s nothing real about this relationship. It was a mistake. One which I don’t intend to happen again."

“Can’t you even admit to what we are to each other, what we have become?” said Dukat. “Well, if you can’t admit to that, can’t you at least play along?"

“To what end?"

“There are rumours our relationship has hit a rough patch, even that we’ve broken up. Is there no part of you that wants to polish your lying skills on this situation?"

“And help you out? Are you still pursuing Major Kira?"

“I could ask you the same thing,” replied Dukat. “Are you still set on the doctor, Bashir?"

Garak had not thought of Bashir since that night with Dukat. But it wouldn’t do to tell Dukat that.

Something changed in Dukat’s face. Then he stalked forward.

Garak started backing away from Dukat, towards the work table.

“Another betting pool has surfaced in Quark’s Bar about us. Don’t you want to give them something to talk about?”

Garak stopped, refusing to allow Dukat to back him into a corner. He stepped forward, stopping just inches before Dukat, who similarly refused to back away.

“I don’t care what Quark talks about. Let him."

“But what would you tell that lovely doctor of yours?" said Dukat.

Garak didn’t reply. That was all the answer Dukat needed.

“Really, Garak, this is ridiculous,” Dukat complained. "How long are you going to keep up this charade? You and I both know that there is something more intimate between us than this cold attitude would suggest,” he said, sliding a hand up Garak’s neck ridges. Garak shrugged his shoulder. "What are you afraid will happen if you admit what we are to each other? It was more than merely sex. If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to avoid me, or to pretend there is nothing between us."

Garak leaned into Dukat, giving him the full weight of his stare. “And what, pray tell, is between us?” he retorted. “Do you see us as lovers now? Or even, Cardassia forgive, as _partners_?"

“Cardassia has nothing to do with it,” said Dukat. “You are allowed to want this."

Garak laughed humourlessly. “You act as though you are a gift to the world; you are not. And I neither want nor need you. I have no reason to trust you."

“You want a reason to trust me, then here it is. I am like you now: disgraced. The barrier that laid between us has been torn away, and here we stand together, stripped of the traitorous things that tore us apart. Which means we are now free to become what we should’ve been, what deep down we were always meant to be: lovers. I know you’re lonely. So am I,” said Dukat. “You must ache for someone to hold, to talk to. I can be that companion, if you’d only let me."

“I’m not lonely,” said Garak. “I’ve lasted this long, I can last longer."

“But you don’t have to! Don’t you want me? Everything you said, to Bashir, to Kira, it was all true, wasn’t it? About loving me, about deciding I was worth the _risk_?”

“Ah, I never said I loved you. I’m not sure I do even now. What I said was that I was committed to you―"

“And everything you said on that score came from the heart,” insisted Dukat. “You must at least admit to that much."

“I am quite expert at lying―"

“Why don’t you admit it, even to yourself?” said Dukat. “You would never have agreed to this little ruse of ours if deep down you didn’t really want it. Why go through the torment of being with me with none of the benefits? I can give it to you, your reward for going through all this condemnation, if you’d only let me. What are you so afraid of?"

“I’m not afraid of you,” said Garak.

“Yes, you are!” said Dukat. “You just won’t let yourself admit it because you don’t want to appear weak! You love me ―"

“No ―"

“You can’t admit it because you’re afraid to trust me! Well, how do you think I feel? You tortured my father. But I’m willing to finally give you a second chance… if you’d only _take it_!"

Garak hesitated, his lips parted. He did want Dukat; he hated that he did. Whatever else had happened the last time, he had loved fucking Dukat. As for second chances… he had told himself he wouldn’t do this again, but just the thought of sinking into that ajan again made him believe in second chances. 

Perhaps he had been afraid to trust Dukat, or allow himself to be vulnerable in front of his enemy. But the shame he'd felt afterward had little to do with Dukat and everything to do with the world outside, and becoming further isolated from it.

Dukat took that as his cue, and entered Garak’s space, kissing his lips.

By allowing this kiss, Garak had no idea if he was trapping himself inside a small dark space like the one that brought down the Buendía family.

Fear welled up in him, filling his entire body. He was not going to let this happen, not again. He had to take control.

Pushing Dukat roughly back, he dug his nails into his neck ridges, squeezing tight.

“Yes,” growled Dukat, visibly aroused. “Give it to me.”

“No,” Garak snarled. “I will not fall into your trap."

“Trap?”

“This is a trap. I can’t… allow myself to be with someone who is only with me to escape the loneliness of isolation, who is only with me because I know what that isolation is like. I will not allow you to twist my mind the way yours has been twisted."

"Garak… what are you saying?"

“That I can’t indulge myself in your company and shut out the world. You are not worth cutting myself off further from it. This is not a story of you and me against the rest of the world. You will not find me rolling around in my own filth, fucking you like an animal, like you’re my whole world ―"

“Nor would I want you to,” said Dukat. “We’re Cardassians, aren’t we? I know well you’re your own man; that’s what I like about you. We are not the only two people in the world. I would only want to fuck you if that’s what you want, but once we’re done, you’re free to walk back out into the world and do as you wish. But for right now, it’s alright to just have this moment for ourselves, isn’t it? Isn’t that what you want?"

Garak growled. “You could talk anyone into doing anything, couldn’t you?” 

“Oh? Is it working?"

Garak yanked Dukat in by the neckline of his uniform, and crushed their mouths together. Then he swung him around and threw him into the edge of his worktable.  
Embracing him in his arms, Garak bit into those broad, delectable neck ridges, and Dukat moaned, baring his neck to him as Garak began to suck and bite at them.  
Garak roamed his hands over every inch of Dukat’s chest plate, tracing out patterns, feeling up the texture, worshipping the uniform.

Lifting Dukat onto the worktable, he caressed the latches with his fingers before he unfastened Dukat’s uniform and let it clatter loudly down onto the table.  
Dukat’s bare chest was like delicate innards of a sea shell. It looked gorgeous.

“Are you certain we are alone?"

“Quite certain. I keep careful tabs on every hidden corner, every item in this room, at all times. We are quite alone,” said Garak.

Dukat smiled down on him. “As well you should,” he replied.

Leaning down to kiss Garak, Dukat allowed him to continue removing his clothing until the entire pile lay behind him on the table. Dukat looked down at him, trustingly, and Garak gazed deep into those eyes marvelling at how Dukat could be so open, so trusting with him, when the door wasn’t even locked.

Briefly, he wondered if he should pull away now to lock it. But the look Dukat was giving him now was begging for him to stay with him, not to leave him even for a moment. It was a needy look, one that drew their hearts together, and Garak couldn’t look away.

Even as Garak looked up at Dukat, doubt flittered through his mind. How was it possible he could look at him so trustfully, so shamelessly? He could’ve shown this side of himself to anyone, but he chose Garak. Dukat sat there naked, baring himself to Garak, waiting for him.

That alone got the better of Garak. After so long starved for affection, to see this vulnerable side of Dukat, made Garak feel important again. Garak had used him once to relieve the tension in his body; this time it was to relieve emotional tension. He needed to touch him, to release every tense muscle, every hateful thought, every bit of desire he had built up over the last several days.

Stepping into the cove of Dukat's legs, Garak wrapped his arms around Dukat's waist, and kissed his chest. He really did feel so lonely sometimes, and physical comforts helped.

He really was slipping into a trap. He felt it even as he kissed Dukat’s chest. But who else did he have?  
Squeezing his waist, pressing desperate kisses to Dukat’s body, Garak felt his tension melting away, like this was what he needed all along. Soon he slowed down, as hatred melted into pleasure.

“Are we to become lovers now?” asked Dukat.

Garak caught himself in the middle of tender, languishing kisses. He froze. His eyes shot up to look at Dukat.

“That’s not what this is,” said Garak. “How I do this isn’t important. It’s just a fuck. We are not making a regular thing out of this."

“Think carefully about what you’re about to do to me, then,” said Dukat. “You’re about to make love to me."

“No, I’m not,” said Garak. “This isn’t real."

“Oh, Garak,” said Dukat. “I didn’t take you for an oblivious fool."

“I’m no fool. It’s you that has deluded yourself. To think that I… would ever…"

Even as he said it, Garak knew he was fooling himself. He wanted it not to be true. He wanted to hate himself, or hate Dukat, for feeling this way. But the truth was, all he felt was love.

And where Dukat was concerned, love could hardly be anything else but wrong. Love was possession; it was connection and isolation all at once. And to be owned by Dukat, even if he owned him in return, was truly irredeemable.

Garak pushed Dukat back against the table. Dukat fell on his hands, then looked back up at Garak, who had a furious look in his eyes.

He caressed his chest. He needed him, wanted him, had to have him, despite the doubts in his head telling him it was wrong. He leaned in, pressed his body into Dukat’s, and Dukat rose a little to meet him.

Pressing a hand to his chest, Garak maintained his dominance. He hated that he was consenting to this, but he was growing in confidence that this time, he could control Dukat.

“I hate you,” said Garak.

“Oh, maybe you do," said Dukat, “but you love me too, more than you like to admit. I think you’re scared of it. You needn’t be. You can trust me, Elim. We challenge each other, and what more could you ask for in a relationship?"

“This isn’t a―"

“No, of course not,” said Dukat. “Let’s just have this moment."

He wasn’t really agreeing with Garak. He was just trying to lure Garak into sex, and then a relationship.  
Garak’s hands slid down to caress Dukat’s thighs and then looked up into his eyes. "Are you capable of truly loving anyone, Dukat? You cannot tell me that there is more between us and then just abandon me. I will not allow myself to make such mistake. If all you really want is my body―"

“It isn’t, Elim…" said Dukat. "I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. More than my wife, more than any Bajoran slave ―"

“More than Major Kira?"

“Oh, are you really still jealous of her? I only wanted to make you jealous. You are always hanging around that boy toy of yours, Bashir..."

"Not for a while,” said Garak. “He, too, has abandoned me."

“But I won’t,” said Dukat. “Look at me: I have bared myself to you. I want you, Elim, I need you."

It isn’t enough, Garak wanted to tell him. The truth was, beyond the physical, Dukat hadn’t displayed much vulnerability with him. But when he looked into Dukat’s eyes, he had to wonder…

Groping Dukat’s thighs hard, Garak spread them apart, trailing kisses along the inside of his thighs, and up to his ajan.

Dukat moaned, pressing into Garak’s mouth as he reached his ajan. Teasing his hole, Garak sucked hard on the surrounding scales, allowing himself to close his eyes and surrender to the pleasure of touching his body.

Pulling off again to look up into those bright blue eyes, they seemed to tell him he loved him even better than words could. How could he doubt Dukat’s feelings while they stared him right in the face? Of course, he knew why: because Dukat lies, and manipulates, and even the sincerest expressions could be part of some elaborate deceit.

Soon, Garak’s gaze dropped down to another piece of Dukat: his flowering prUt, as it poked out of his ajan like a bud. He stood, stroking the flesh as it slid out, he encouraged the bud to blossom, and soon the prUt fully emerged from his ajan.

Squeezing the shaft in a single fist, Garak slowly slid his hand down until it covered the wide base at the bottom. Turning his fist, he rubbed at that sensitive base and pulling that gorgeous moan from Dukat that he had so often recalled from that last time Dukat had shared his bed.

Spreading his legs wider until both his knees were flat on the table top, Dukat surrendered to Garak as he added another hand to Dukat’s shaft, keeping pressure there as the sensations built in his base and flooded his shaft with fluid.

Squeezing and rubbing the base of his cock, Garak was pleased to hear Dukat gasping and crying at his ministrations.

Writhing and shuddering into Garak’s fist, Dukat pushed his prUt further into Garak’s hand. Keeping that delicious pressure in his shaft, Garak squeezed tighter, twisting his other hand so that wonderful friction in his base ramped up even higher.

Dukat’s legs trembled, and he lifted his knees to spread them even further apart.

"Ah ― ah ― ah ― ah ― ah…"

His breathing grew heavy. Garak looked up at him, drinking in every detail. When Dukat was in the throes of passion, it was the most beautiful, most mesmerising thing Garak had ever seen. All those smooth scales, shuddering muscles, that gaping grin and those blown pupils. It was a Dukat that was more vulnerable, more in Garak’s power, more soft and trusting and giving than at any other time. This was the man Garak loved.

Dukat gave a final shout, and then he came all over Garak’s chest. And just like that, it was over, and those eyes focused in on him again, as though he knew the thought that had just come into Garak’s head.

Garak stared back, confronted with the idea that Dukat knew exactly how he felt.

And then the moment passed, and Garak looked down at his ruined shirt. He lifted it over his head, and moved towards a replicator and placed it inside. He ran it through and then recalled it. It came back clean.

“A neat trick,” said Dukat from across the room. He was still naked, but he had come down from the table. “Do you clean all your clothes this way?"

"Only in extreme circumstances,” said Garak. “As a clothier, I have to restrict my use of replicators, as anyone could simply use one to receive clothes, rather than using my service. What I offer is a service that can’t be retrieved from a simple replicator. The personal touch. Original designs. Skillful hem jobs."

“Replicators can fix clothes better than you can."

“But not like I can. My hemming skills make clothes look better than new, even fashionable and unique. People will pay for that service."

Dukat walked over to where Garak still stood by the replicator. He took the shirt from Garak’s hand.  
Then he threw it over his shoulder and kissed Garak. “I want to see the rest of you. Would you permit me?"

“No,” said Garak, and pushed past Dukat, and wandered away towards the dressing rooms.

Dukat followed him.

“Still running away,” he said. “What is it, you’re afraid to love? Or is it something more ―”

Dukat pulled back on Garak’s shoulder, who turned to face him.

It was at that very moment that the door opened and Jadzia walked in. She stopped, taking in the image of Dukat naked and Garak topless behind the worktable. Then she said, “Sorry, am I interrupting? I’ll come back…"

She quickly left before Garak could even defend himself. He knew she would tell everyone; doubtless, talk of their fake relationship would resurface in hours through stories and rumours of their shacking up in Garak’s shop.

Well, there was nothing to do about it now. So he simply gave in and yanked Dukat into the nearest dressing room.

"Yes," hissed Dukat, grinning, gratified. “Let me ―"

Garak gripped Dukat’s wrists in a vise as they reached out for Garak’s pants. Shooting Dukat a look, Dukat lowered them to his sides as Garak removed his clothes himself.

He laid out each piece of clothing on the bench beside him, until he was fully naked. He faced Dukat, feeling vulnerable; he hated that he didn’t even mind.

Dukat eyed his naked body with a smirk, then slammed Garak up against the glass of the mirror behind him.  
Briefly, Garak wondered if Dukat was doing this just because he liked seeing his own reflection. It soon became apparent, however, the way his hands worshipped Garak’s body, the way he his eyes gleamed when he looked at him, that it was Garak he was thinking of, rather than himself. 

There was lust in Dukat's eyes as he took in the sight of Garak's ass pushed against and reflected by cold glass. It turned him on, watching his naked body from multiple angles. His neck ridges swelled and darkened as he stared hungrily. 

Putting a leg between both of Dukat’s, Garak flipped them around so that it was Dukat pressed into the cold glass. Pressing his lips against Dukat’s, Garak stroked his shoulders, then slid his hands down his chest.  
Keeping a fierce gaze on Dukat, Garak sank down his body, towards his ajan. Maintaining eye contact, he licked a stripe along Dukat’s entrance. Then he delved his tongue deeper inside...

“Ah...” Dukat gasped, as the tongue strokes only became more firm, swirling around his hole, filling him up with sensation.

Spreading his legs at the skillful stroke of his tongue, Dukat closed his eyes. It was easy to surrender when Garak's tongue was doing that.

Gripping Garak’s head, carding fingers through his hair, Dukat leaned back against the cold mirror, which only provided a sharp contrast to that delicious wet heat Garak was providing with his tongue, as it licked at the inside of his passage.

Dukat throbbed around that tongue, pressing into it, wanting more…

As Garak's prUt emerged, he pulled his tongue out from Dukat, leaving Dukat unfulfilled and wanting. But then he stood, and slipped himself inside of Dukat.

"Oh… yes…"

Pressing the first few inches inside of Dukat, his ajan throbbed and pressed down hard on every delicious inch of his prUt. The wet, tight heat soon enveloped Garak as he sank his prUt deeper inside of him.

Spreading his legs wider, Dukat braced himself against the mirror as Garak filled him up. As he bottomed out, Garak began rubbing the base of his cock on Dukat’s purse, the tingling sensation building in him until it seemed to have spread through his whole body.

Moaning, Garak continued to grind Dukat harder into the mirror as the sensations built up, filling his cock up and pressing it harder against the walls of his ajan.  
Gripping Dukat’s neck ridges in his hands, Garak pulled them closer and pressed needful kisses into them. As Dukat began to quiver under him, Garak shuddered and bit into Dukat’s third scale along his left set of ridges, eliciting a whine as he writhed under Garak.

“Oh, fuck me…” he moaned, as his ajan squeezed Garak tighter.

That sound went straight to his cock, and he throbbed against Dukat’s ajan walls. He rubbed himself against his purse, and soon his prUt was shuddering inside Dukat, ready to burst.

 _Oh, Cardassia, that is good!_ Garak thought.

Garak pressed his chest into Dukat’s, pinning him fully against the mirror as he grinded his hips faster, more desperately into Dukat.

"Ah… _ah… fuck…_ "

His hand pressed flat into the mirror, as his orgasm overtook him. Moments later he arched and came into Dukat’s ajan.

Taking a breath, Garak slipped out of his ajan as he retreated backwards. He had swore he wasn’t going to do this again. Now that he had, he knew exactly what it meant: now that they had fucked for the third time, Dukat wouldn’t give up is pursuit; he'd keep coming back, until Garak either admitted his feelings or convinced Dukat otherwise.

Convincing him would be no easy feat, considering the ego on the man. He was absolutely insufferable.  
Garak could try playing this off as casual sex, but he already knew Dukat wouldn’t buy it. Still, it was the only way to eventually convince him that Garak did not love him.

That was assuming Garak could ultimately outwit Dukat. But the truth was, there was an unspoken connection that had formed between them, and they both knew it. There was very little Garak could do now to change his mind. But failing to do so meant falling into a real relationship. Garak didn’t know how to avoid that. Or even if he really wanted to.

Staring into each others’ eyes from across the dressing room, Garak found himself speechless for once.

The silence stretched out before them, but at least it wasn’t weighted by regret or cynicism. As Garak looked over at Dukat, he was filled with neither hate, nor love, nor even indifference; what he felt for Dukat in that moment was simply an awareness, of what they’d done and what they were to each other. Not wholly lovers, nor enemies, but two men who walked crossed paths, whose hearts were entwined but whose minds were still warring against each other.

In another life, they might have been a formidable pair.  
Well, that was it, wasn’t it? Why another life? They were both here, right now. They were both attracted to each other, attached to each other. Why was this impossible?

There was still a wall between them, but... perhaps there was still hope for them yet.

Something in Dukat’s eyes, too, were searching Garak’s. Perhaps searching for the impossible.

“I know you were jealous of Major Kira,” Dukat eventually said, “but you needn’t be. What I was searching for in her was family, a return of what I had with Naprem. But with you, I feel something new. Elim, you have shown me another side to myself. I want you by my side. I want to share my family with you. I want you to be another father to Ziyal and to share my bed on my cold nights aboard the freighter."

“You want me to leave the station with you,” said Garak. If he truly meant it, then perhaps he was serious about Garak.

Or perhaps he wanted to isolate him in order to carry out an attack on him, and all this really was a trap.

“A tempting offer,” said Garak. “I do want to trust you, Dukat. But in my experience, trusting anyone has often proved to be a fool’s errand. For too long, our relationship has been nothing but a battle of two master manipulators. What else can there be for us? You’re capable of anything. I just don’t have any guarantees."

“Elim, I consider what we just did to be an affirmation of the bond that has been renewed between us. It is a promise to each other to put the past behind us. But if that’s not how you see us..."

“It was just sex, nothing more."

“Garak! How can you be so cold?"

“If you really have to ask, you must have a short memory. Now if you’ll excuse me..." said Garak.  
Picking up the clothes from the bench, Garak got dressed. Then he left the dressing room to retrieve his shirt.

Dukat followed him out, standing naked in front of the curtain as he watched Garak, who was now fully clothed, as he ordered mirror cleaner from the replicator and returned to the dressing room.

Stopping him with a touch to his shoulder, Dukat said, “You don’t really want to remain on this station, do you? I know you don’t."

“Then why bother asking the question?"

“Because I need to know why you’re behaving this way!"

“Because as much as I hate life on this station, I’d rather live here than throw away what little security I have here on you, of all people. You, who tried to execute me and who surely hasn’t changed, even now."

“Surely you don’t think I plan on trying that again?"

“You’re the military man. You tell _me_ ,” said Garak. “Besides, it hardly matters. You and I both know that freighters can barely defend themselves, even if I don’t have to fear an attack from the inside."

Garak pushed past Dukat and entered the dressing room. He then went to work on the mirror, seeking to remove the evidence of their encounter.

Dukat stood, still naked, in the frame of the dressing room entrance, watching him. “I am not planning an attack on you, Elim."

“You’d say that either way."

“I am not lying! You’re just looking for any excuse to avoid what you know is true: that we belong together. You are avoiding feeling vulnerable again. It must be new for you to expose your inner self to me. You’re scared."

“And you’re not?” said Garak.

“Of course I am; you’re leaving me alone, Elim, when I’m already so isolated. Even if I am the monster that Major Kira thinks I am, surely even monsters deserve love."

Garak glanced back at Dukat. “I don’t think deserves has anything to do with it. You should get dressed."

Leaving him to clean up their little encounter, Dukat did as he was told, and got dressed.

Then, with a final, regretful look back at Garak, left his shop.

***

There was a darkness in Dukat that scared Garak. Not because he was afraid, as those under the Federation were, of doing anything for his people, but because he knew that ultimately Dukat served not Cardassia, not family, not even Garak, but only himself. And he couldn’t allow that kind of selfishness bring ruin to him like it had done to the Buendías.

Although he was perfectly aware what he and Dukat were to each other, he couldn’t let it turn him in on himself and devour everything he was. He couldn’t allow Dukat to twist him against the world.

It wasn’t just sex; he knew in his heart it wasn’t. When he fucked Dukat, he knew there was more behind it. Those soft eyes haunted Garak’s daydreams. He felt a magnetism towards Dukat that lust didn’t account for.  
But by now, the self-hatred at the existence of that connection had faded to a deep sadness. He had resigned himself to the knowledge that a part of him was exactly like Dukat. But he couldn’t accept it.

He was well aware that Dukat was a complicated man, that he had both good and evil inside him. But he also knew that the evil had outweighed the good in Dukat, just as the good in himself outweighed the evil most days. If he allowed Dukat’s good side to charm him, however, and allow himself to forget what Dukat was, he would surely spread his poison to Garak, too.

They were both living their own kind of isolation, but at least Garak didn’t suffer the kind of isolation that Dukat found himself trapped inside of. He would much rather suffer alone on this station, having served Cardassia and had his people completely turn their backs on him, than be where Dukat was, having served his own interests and finding himself still on the hook even after he was condemned.

It was better to surrender himself to his isolation than to share the pain of another man’s failings. Dukat was a black hole, and Garak wasn’t going to fall into sharing his burdens.

So he carried on as usual. His heart laboured with longing for Dukat, but it had to be this way.

Constant vigilance, that was the only way to operate. He had to battle his way through every day, and the only thing that got him through was his last connection to Dukat: his daughter, Ziyal.

Perhaps what Dukat had once looked for in Kira he now longed for in Garak. Surely Cardassia knew Ziyal deserved a better father than Dukat, but Garak hardly considered himself fit for the job.

But the relationship they ended up having was hardly appropriate, either. It had started out rather like the earliest days of his relationship with Dukat; constantly watching his back. But it soon became apparent that she didn’t see him as Dukat once had; she felt companionship for Garak.

Briefly, he wondered if Dukat had ever hoarded such feelings for him the way Garak now did for Dukat. Maybe Ziyal was merely more open than her father.  
Perhaps it was her open heart that allowed Garak to begin to open his. Although Ziyal developed some romantic feelings for him, Garak felt for her nothing more than companionship. Because Garak knew what isolation felt like; he knew the kind of vacuum it could throw you into, the way it could poison your mind. But Ziyal had the rare talent of drawing him out of it.

Perhaps cutting himself off had been a mistake. Perhaps he was damned no matter what path he took.  
The rumours of Garak’s relationship with Dukat faded when he started spending more time with Ziyal. As if it had never happened, the gossip soon turned to his relationship with Ziyal. 

It was times like these he could use a fake relationship with Dukat again: to shift away such rumours, to discourage Ziyal’s more amorous feelings towards him, and to make her understand.

But the price of such a ruse might yet be too steep.  
He still went to sleep nights thinking about it. After a year, it didn’t happen nearly as much as it used to. But there was still an internal battle raging within him, about what he should’ve done.

Then one day, Dukat strolled right out of his dreams and into his life again. And then he immediately threatened his life.

Just having Dukat touch him again was enough to get the blood pumping. Dukat didn’t scare him; he always thrilled him. It was almost a shame when Dukat bowed to popular opinion and let him go.

When he walked away, leaving Dukat with his daughter in Quark’s Bar, he knew it wasn’t the end.

Perhaps they brought out the worst in each other. But Garak knew they just fit. And if a fake relationship with Ziyal was enough to send Dukat into a jealous rage over him, then maybe there was something here after all.

However, if they were to make real this relationship, there were a few things they should establish first.  
They agreed over a private channel that Garak was to meet Dukat in his assigned quarters on the station.

At the door chime, Dukat invited Garak inside. He stepped inside, and the door closed behind him.

Dukat stood there in his uniform. Only he was missing his boots. And his pants.

Garak froze, staring.

“Oh, Elim. I wasn’t expecting guests."

“You’re the one who invited me. What are you _doing_?"

Despite the question, Garak’s eyes roved over that steely uniform, those soft thighs, that delicate pink ajan. It was the most erotic thing Garak had ever seen. He looked so strong, so contained, so fuckable.

"Fuck."

No. Sex had only gotten in the way up till now. It had allowed him to ignore the intricate nature of their relationship. 

“Oh? Do you like what you see?” said Dukat. “I noticed the last time we fucked that you seemed to really like the uniform. Or at least this part of it, anyway.” He gestured to the chest plate. “So I thought I’d surprise you."

Looking into Dukat’s face, he appeared eager, and unaware of Garak’s inner turmoil.

“This can’t happen. Not again."

“Elim…" said Dukat. He stepped towards him.

“No,” said Garak. “We can’t be lovers, not before we admit what we are to each other. You threatened my life today, and perhaps it’s because you don’t want your enemy to associate with your daughter, or perhaps you were madly jealous and couldn’t stand the thought of her taking from you what you consider to be yours. I think you were jealous, and hurt, and it made you lash out. But you still can’t admit why. Even now, you bury those feelings with this provocative display. I’m more than a regular fuck to you, aren’t I? You love me; you want me. Well, I can assure you that whatever Ziyal feels for me is completely one-sided. So if you’re doing this to gain possession of me, stop it right now. You don’t need to. I won’t be controlled by you. I won’t let you have your way with me, I won’t be your plaything. I’m ―”

“Your equal. I haven’t forgotten."

“Then stop giving me whatever you think I want and talk to me. Be open with me, stop using your body and start using your mind with me. Don’t show me, tell me how you feel for me."

"I'm… in love with you."

He looked up defiantly at Garak, refusing to allow the man to make a fool of him.

“I love you, too,” said Garak.

Silence, heavy with meaning, passed between them. Then Dukat crossed the space between them and kissed him.

Garak returned the kiss. 

As the kiss grew, Garak’s hands wandered over Dukat’s body, stroking his neck ridges, then stroking the hard lines of his chest plate, tracing the letters etched into the right border of his uniform.

“Mm. You like a man in charge ―” said Dukat.

“Not in charge,” said Garak. “Strong. Sexy. Under my command. Someone for me to break."

“Are you going to break me?” said Dukat.

Garak's hands wandered down to Dukat’s exposed hips, pressing and stroking them. Moaning, Dukat thrust his hips at Garak.

“By the time I’m done with you, I’ll have you begging me to fuck you."

“I don’t _beg_."

“You already have. And you’ll do it again for me."

It was at that moment he realised Dukat was dripping. Garak looked down to see the wet patch he’d left on Garak pants.

So Garak got undressed.

The Earth novel, _100 Years of Solitude_ , was filled with the consequences of an insular life: it created a prison, and trapped people inside it; it twisted the mind; it led to ruin. Until now, Garak had been terrified of this happening with Dukat ― after all, Dukat’s mind was so insular and twisted, and for a long time, so had Garak’s been. Dukat wasn’t who he wanted to be.

But now he understood: he didn’t have to be that way with Dukat, not if he held the power in the relationship. He could turn it out the other way.

Garak threw him against the back of the couch and pressed his body into Dukat’s, ajan on ajan. “I am no longer afraid of being with you. I love you, and am going to take you!"

Dukat grinned. “Yes! That’s what I’ve been waiting for! What are you going to do with me, Elim?"

Garak captured his lips, pouring all his love and hate and passion into it. After all, what was hate but intimate opposition; what was love but passionate connection; what difference was there between strangulating and caressing, bleeding and throbbing, biting and kissing?

He groped at Dukat’s ridges, pulling and grasping, grinding his body into Dukat’s.

Their chests heaved against each other as their tongues slid against each other. Their kiss warmed Garak’s body, and he bucked against Dukat as his ajan got wetter.

Rubbing their slick purses together, their emerging prUts rose up alongside each other, shaft against shaft.

Wrapping a hand around them both, Garak cradled them away from the hard steel of Dukat’s uniform and into his soft stomach, squeezing hard. As Dukat leaned back against the back of the couch, they came to their full length beside each other, and grinded the base of their cocks together.

Precum dribbled from the tips of their cocks, as they throbbed, slipped, shuddered against each other. They grinded harder, faster against each other. Heat surged and ran throughout their bodies. Garak squeezed tighter.

Dukat grasped the small of Garak’s back, pulling him closer, his face caught in an expression of ecstasy. 

“Ah,” he moaned, sliding his hips so his shaft rubbed against Garak’s just right. " _Ah_!"

Garak bit into Dukat's neck ridges, causing him to cry out even louder. " _Ah! Elim!_ "

Dukat grinded harder, more desperately against the base of Garak’s cock, who matched him stroke for stroke.

Dukat moaned and sighed and grinded his hips into Garak’s fist, but still he didn’t come. He grew louder, more insistent. But clearly, he needed help. 

So with his other hand, he slipped two fingers into Dukat’s ajan. His hips jerked, and pressed forward, urging him in.

Garak stilled his fingers.

“What the fuck? Fuck me!"

"Beg."

"What?"

“Beg,” repeated Garak.

"Ah… ah…” He pushed his ajan over Garak’s fingers, searching for sensation. Not enough…

“Fuck me! Please…"

His cries became more uneven as Garak fingered him, stroking the walls of passage, caressing and teasing him. He added another finger, and Dukat spread his legs further.

"Ah… ah… _ah…_ "

Garak squeezed his cock, as his hand slowly slipped down his shaft. Pressing Dukat’s cock against his stomach and stroking it, Garak lined up his own cock with Dukat’s opening and slipped it inside.

Closing down onto Garak’s cock as it slid slowly inside, Dukat writhed and shook beneath him. Bracing himself against the couch, Dukat wrapped his legs around Garak’s waist, digging his heels in, nudging him towards thoroughly fucking him.

As Garak bottomed out, he drove his base home, seeking friction, pushing his prUt deeper into Dukat as he fucked him.

Squeezing Dukat’s base as he neared the end of his climax, Garak throbbed and twitched inside Dukat, ready to burst.

“That’s right," groaned Garak, holding him tighter still as he pressed himself harder and faster in Dukat, “come for me…"

Writhing and shaking under Garak, Dukat came with a shout all over Garak’s chest, seconds before Garak came in his ajan.

Their cocks withdrew, and they both fell against the back of the couch.

"Oh… that was _good_ …"

There was a spark in his eyes as Dukat looked across at Garak. “You’re telling _me_ ,” he said. “There’s something to be said for anticipation. I feel like I’ve just released years of tension in one orgasm. Like years of animosity was just leading to this…"

There was little Garak could say; they both knew what this meant. This time it wasn’t just sex: it was the start of their new relationship, one Garak couldn’t deny.  
And he didn’t even want to, anymore.

Doubt still clouded Garak’s eyes. He turned away, deep in thought.

“What is it?” said Dukat.

Garak remained silent.

“Come on... _Elim_ ," said Dukat. “This is to be an open relationship. What’s bothering you?"

Garak looked back up into those sincere eyes, and felt himself be moved.

“I have always lived a life of solitude, even before I was exiled to this place. I had to; the way of life that was picked out for me demanded it. Being abandoned is certainly not new for me, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less when it happens. It continues to happen, even now. And if I can be abandoned by a dear friend, why should I have any higher hopes for an adversary I rarely see? I cannot put my heart into something that is doomed to fall apart."

Dukat stood before him, and ran his hands down to Garak’s shoulders. “It isn’t. I’m here, Elim, and I’m not leaving. I’m offering you salvation. A second chance."

“A second chance,” repeated Garak. “To be together?"

“More than that,” said Dukat. "This is a chance to allow yourself to break these chains we put on ourselves, to allow yourself to finally feel unreservedly, to throw off your isolation and fearlessly embrace connection. Allow yourself to be with me, to trust again, and I will embrace you in return, and love you, and never hurt you again."

“I want to. But wanting and hoping are different things. I can’t ignore the past. And it isn’t in your nature to change."

“Do you honestly want me to?"

“I don’t want you to change who you are. But if I’m to trust you, I need your loyalty. I need to be in charge."

“Then I give myself to you," said Dukat, “to do with as you will."

Garak smiled. “Oh, this could be fun."

Perhaps Dukat had gotten what he wanted, perhaps he’d manipulated Garak to get it. But now Garak wanted this, too; he’d chosen this. For whatever that was worth.

He excused himself to the bathroom to clean himself off. Dukat followed him, and removed his chest plate as Garak got into the sonic shower.

“Now that you’re mine,” Dukat purred, as he stepped into the sonic shower with Garak, “I think it would be best to end whatever it is you share with my daughter."

Garak turned to him. “Let’s make one thing clear: you’re _mine_ , not the other way around. You are not the one who makes my decisions for me."

“But surely you don’t intend to carry on this charade?” said Dukat.

“I don’t intend to end my friendship with her. It’s one of the few things that’s kept me sane while I’ve been trapped on this station. But if we’re together, it might end whatever ideas she has about the two of us."

“Ah yes," grinned Dukat. "In fact, it should kill off those nasty rumours about you and Ziyal once and for all. Everyone on the station will know soon enough that we’re together. One more performative display of affection, for old times’ sake," said Dukat.

“Only this time, it’s not fake."

Dukat wrapped his arms around Garak’s hips, kissing his neck ridges. “Mm,” he said. “Even better. It’s more fun when it’s real."

Garak moaned. “And if… that doesn’t work…"

"Mm, it better,” said Dukat. “I will not have my daughter flirting with my lover."

“I should hope not."

He turned around in Dukat’s arms and looked up seriously at him for a moment. “You care about me. I know that, but… I have to ask: how much are you really willing to risk to be with an exile like me?"

“Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m Gul Dukat, I’m willing to put it all on the line for the possibility of success."

“Success, in this case, being a healthy relationship."

“Exactly. The question is, are you willing to risk just as much? After all, I’m an exile too."

"Not for long."

“Mm, that’s certainly true."

Garak wrapped his arms around Dukat’s waist, embracing him. “What have I got to lose?"

Dukat smiled, and kissed him. When he pulled away, he held Garak’s face in his hands.

“I love you,” Dukat confessed. “I tried to hate you, for a very long time, and perhaps I should. But who among us is not guilty of one crime or another? I love you, for your strength, your humour, your sophistication, and for your mind. And perhaps I never could tell you any of this because I... I was playing a role, I was playing the role of enemy, and enemies aren’t supposed to fall in love with each other. So I just... desired you from afar, never reaching out, never touching,” he said, stroking a hand down the side of his face.

"Maybe I slept around so much because I couldn’t have you. I felt jealousy, and grief, and loneliness. I was angry, and lost. And now that I finally have you, I’m not letting you go. I won’t, Garak, no matter what future lies ahead for us. We ought to make quite a team. Now that we’re together, no one will be able to get in our way."  
Garak kissed him. Dukat pulled Garak closer, and ran his hands down Garak's chest, which was now blessedly clean. 

“Look out, world,” agreed Garak. "Now that we have each other, nothing can stop us."

He grinned back at Dukat, sharing in the joy that not only had they done the impossible and gotten each other, now they were strong enough to conquer worlds together.


End file.
